


Homecoming

by InfernalPume



Category: Leviathan - Scott Westerfeld
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, a bit - Freeform, moving forward
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 19:30:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9286679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InfernalPume/pseuds/InfernalPume
Summary: Alek receives a letter from the Czech Republic, of all places.





	

“Well, what is it?” Deryn asked through a mouthful of toast, seeming less interested with her newspaper upon noticing Alek’s expression.

 

“Its from the Czech Ministry of Culture,” Alek said slowly, “About _Konopischt_.”

 

From the way Deryn expected more information, Alek assumed this was one of those occasions where the German language sounded like a sneeze in English.

 

“It was my father’s castle, where I lived before the war,” He explained.

 

Comprehension dawned on Deryn’s face momentarily before twisting again in confusion.

 

“What does the Czech Ministry of Culture care about Kono-spich?” she asked, butchering the pronunciation as usual, “And why would they tell _you_ about it?”

 

Reading the letter further Alek skimmed through the dense honorifics and pleasantries until he found the intrigue of the letter.

 

“Oh.” Alek said finally, “…Apparently I own it.”

 

There was some silence as Alek tried deciphering the legal jargon, it seemed the author of the letter had made it hard to read on purpose.

 

“They want me to surrender the property to the Czech State, I believe.”

 

“But didn’t you already do that?” Deryn asked, rising to circle behind his chair and read over his shoulder, “What with the whole chucking your royalty into the ocean in the name of true love or whatever.”

 

Alek snorted at this, but shook his head.

 

“Konopischt was technically my father’s vacation home, it did not belong to the Austrian government,” He explained, “And here it says…something to do with a treaty following the Great War…yes, apparently its mine now.”

 

It was all a bit baffling, really. Contrary to what Alek might have believed, being a Prince wasn’t such a worthless title after all. Even if he had abdicated his right to the throne, there were certain things he supposed there were bound to be heirlooms that had nothing to do with his royalty.

 

“Hrm,” Deryn mumbled, “Do they say anything about a compensation?”

 

She squinted at the letter, looking for a sum of money.

 

Upon noticing how Alek looked at her she shrugged, “The boiler’s going to be bust by spring, I know it. We need to start saving.”

 

“I don’t think the monetary value of Konopischt is equal to the cost of a boiler, Deryn,” Alek said.

 

“Well maybe we can get a really nice one,” Deryn replied after some thought.

 

“Well, it looks like they want me to donate it in any case,” He said, “Though you’re right, we could use the money.”

 

Deryn nodded, “Want me to write my uncle? He’s good at haggling.”

 

The ludicrous picture of Deryn’s portly Uncle Paulie taking the day off from his barbershop to argue with the Czech State over the estate of a royal family briefly came to mind before Alek dismissed it.

 

“I don’t think he’d be used to this kind of transaction,” Alek said, “Besides, I doubt he speaks the language.”

 

Deryn shrugged and went back to her tea, then seemed to realize something. “You can’t keep it, Alek.” She said, “We’d never go there, even with the war over. And it’s a barking _castle_ right? How much would it cost to maintain?”

 

“We certainly wouldn’t have any money left over for a boiler,” Alek agreed, “Or a house, for that matter.”

 

Deryn’s hand reached across the table, but he retracted his own.

 

“I know I can’t keep it Deryn,” he said, “But it feels wrong just _selling_ it.”

 

“That’s what’s practical Alek,” Deryn said softly, “You don’t just inherit something worth so much every day.”

 

This was true, Alek had to admit. If he had been taught anything by those first five years employed in the society, it was how important it was to keep a stable net worth. But still, it had been his _home_ , surely Deryn could understand that? Immediately Alek shook the thought from his head. It wasn’t about convincing Deryn, it was about doing what was responsible for himself.

 

“Perhaps I could just…go there…” Alek finally asked, “Just to see it before I…”

 

“Sell it,” Deryn provided, “And aye, I’d think you’d have a right to that. Say you want to check for damages or something.”

 

Alek felt too pensive to explain that giving his family home over to the Czech State would be nowhere near the same as reselling an automobile. Studying the letter again, his eyes glanced up to Deryn’s face.

 

“Would you come with me?” he asked, making her choke on her tea.

 

“I don’t know any more about Czech property value then Paul,” Deryn said, “Besides, the Boffins are planning some expedition to the Kamchatka Peninsula next year, and Wormwood says he’s only taking his _best_ airmen, if that bumrag Peterson gets it I’ll never live it down.”

 

“Its not about your haggling abilities, Deryn,” he said looking to her, “I just…want you to be there with me, if that makes sense.”

 

Deryn’s mouth opened, studied him for a moment, then closed.

 

“Aye. Perfect sense.” Deryn said softly, “I ‘spose if we went in December I could be back in time…”

 

A warm smile spread across Alek’s face, causing the girl to blush.

 

“Someone’s got to keep you out of trouble, aye?” She added haughtily, to which Alek nodded in agreement.

 

 

 

Deryn didn’t know what she had expected, really. What little she knew about fancy places like these came from memories of Buckingham Palace, Hearst’s Estate, and her brief experience with the castle Alek intended to hide out in for the war. Between them Deryn had an amalgamated image in her mind of where Prince Aleksander Ferdinand of Hohenberg might have spent his time learning French and which fork to use. For some reason she imagined it full of sweeping libraries and portraits of grumpy Clankers staring disapprovingly down at the poor boy as he quietly pretended he didn’t exist. The display she was met with upon arrival was anything but.

 

Kono-spit-hickey was nothing short of _beautiful,_ nestled in thick green trees overlooking the town below with pristine white bricks and rust-red roof tiling. It looked more like an illustration from a fairytale then any royal accommodations Deryn was familiar with, and upon seeing the inside she found it anything but stuffy and old fashioned.

 

No, the interior seemed almost timeless with its pale blue and white arches and delicate pink walls, Deryn half expected the clerk who greeted them to sport a powdered wig in accompaniment to a harpsichord. Instead they were met by a man who bobbed his head politely and lead them through a hallway obscenely decorated with mantled stag’s antlers.

 

When Deryn went back to Ma’s house she knew to expect the stench of the cats mingled with cooking smells and the rusty boiler even before opening the door, but this place seemed so clean and immaculate. How could someplace so cold and perfect be _anyone’s_ home? The beauty and grace of the place was alien and uncomfortable to Deryn, and as always in such places she was eager to be finished with this little tour. Despite this, Alek seemed to feel the weight of his connection here. His eyes would glance about and fix on portraits and pieces of art, that old sadness emerging after years of being hidden. When she realized they were being directed to a study, a study that had likely once belonged to Alek’s father, Deryn risked reaching for Alek’s hand.

 

Public displays of affection were uneasy territory for them both since Deryn grew her hair out, but it seemed everything about this territory was uneasy for Alek all the same so he took the offered fingers and squeezed gratefully. They were lead into a little room and offered chairs politely, it was awkward for everyone when Alek didn’t let go of her hand as they sat.

 

As per their agreement Deryn didn’t involve herself in the conversation, thick with formalities and mentions of strange names she didn’t even recognize it as German at first. She did perk up uncomfortably when she was referred to as _‘die herrin’_ and was too baffled to explain that she wasn’t Alek’s wife.

 

Even so Deryn was a veteran in this situations, and the situation seemed to demand she assume that sort of role. So she pretended to be interested in the conversation, up until talk of Alek’s decision as heir.

 

“You see, young master, there really is no reason for you _not_ to donate the estate. The Ministry will keep the house in order as your late father would have wished, and with your current position you are in no state to care for it yourself.”

 

At this there was a pointed glance at Deryn, and she realized that had they jumped on the wedding idea a bit sooner this sort of thing might have been her responsibility. Thank god for the _Mazikeen,_ she supposed _._

 

“I understand this, Herr Müller,” Alek responded, “But you have not said what the ministry plans to _do_ here.”

 

There seemed to be some history between Alek and this Müller, as he obviously held some superiority over the boy. Still, Alek stood his ground and insisted upon staying and discussing every little aspect of this transaction, eventually agreeing Alek was owed some small compensation.

 

Deryn realized too late that she was too quick to rise when thinking the discussion over. Upon being fixed with Müller’s glare she slowly sunk back into her chair and irritably bounced her leg. These people were so barking _twitchy._

 

Finally, _finally_ they were released and lead away from the study. Once out of earshot Alek’s fist began to shake, an angry expression Deryn had never seen on him before crossing his features.

 

“How can he just _sit_ there? At my father’s desk? When he was only a _housekeeper._ ”

 

Deryn was about to try and open _that_ can of worms when a maid interrupted them.

 

“Shall I prepare your room, young master?” she asked politely, head respectfully bowed.

 

Alek blinked at this, before glancing sideways at Deryn. They had already made accommodations at an inn in town, neither of them considered the idea of sleeping in the actual chateau.

 

“Aye, you should,” Deryn spoke up suddenly, “Thank you.”

 

The maid bowed her head and retreated, leaving Alek to glance questionably at Deryn.

 

“Um…” Deryn sighed and rubbed her neck, “You come back here to say goodbye. I don’t think you just wanted to see that bumrag in your Da’s study and leave did you?”

 

Alek shook his head and sighed, “No, I suppose not.”

 

Deryn probably should have shown more humility when she snorted at the offer of her own room, but since she was so alien in this dainty pretty place anyway Deryn didn’t feel like sleeping alone.

 

It didn’t really occur to her that the room they were staying in was the place Alek grew up in until she spotted his expression. It was the very same look Deryn wore herself when the _Mazikeen_ lifted off, or when she stepped through the front door of their townhouse after months in the air.

 

This place was really important to him, wasn’t it?

 

Alek crossed over to a desk and ran his hands over the polished wood, reaching for the drawer twice only to hold back for whatever reason.

 

“This was where I was,” he said after some time, “I was sitting here…when Volger came to take me away.”

 

The melancholy in Alek’s voice tugged at Deryn’s gut as she came up behind him.

 

“Nothing changed,” Alek marveled, “Everything here is exactly as it was before...”

 

Again Alek’s voice went hard, causing Deryn to retract her hand.

 

“I half expect to be called to dinner with my parents…everything is so similar…” Finally he seemed to notice Deryn beside him and cracked a small smile, “Except…well. You’re here, Deryn.”

 

Alek stepped close and wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on her shoulder, “Thank you for coming,” he said quietly into her ear.

 

Deryn smiled and hugged him back, tracing her palms in soothing circles between his shoulder blades.

 

“Don’t mention it,” she said with a smirk, “I’m glad I was able to see where you came from.”

 

Alek chuckled darkly. “In a way, this is where everything came from.”

 

“How do you mean?”

 

Alek let go of her and looked around.

 

“When my father gave up the throne he left the royal palace in disgrace. He came to live here with my mother apart from the rest of the family, completely isolated to keep my identity hidden. That isolation lead to their murder, so in a way…” he sighed and looked back to Deryn, “…This is where the war came from as well.”

 

Deryn frowned at this absurd reasoning, she had assumed he was done with that sort of thinking. But there was a bit of logic, she supposed. Dr. Barlow said that the Great War would be remembered for generations to come as one of the greatest conflicts of modern man, and this castle hidden in a thicket of trees could represent all of it in a manner of speaking. Maybe that was why Müller and the Ministry of Culture wanted to reclaim it so badly, so they could sweep their dirty history under the rug. It didn’t seem right, erasing Alek’s past for the sake of saving face. Perhaps that’s why Alek was so twitchy.

 

“Alek,” Deryn asked slowly, “Don’t suppose its proper to show me around?”

 

Alek looked up, momentarily distracted by his thoughts. Deryn smirked at his puzzled glance.

 

“How’s about you pay me back for visiting Glasgow last Spring?”

 

The memory of her family tittering and swooning over Alek while describing in uncomfortable detail every daft thing she had done as a lassie still made her wince. It was about time she got some dirt on him as well.

 

Alek returned her smile shyly, similarly to how he would back when they first met.

 

“I’m afraid you wont find any pictures of me as a child,” He admitted, “I’ve never posed for portraits, and my aunt believed camera’s corrupt the soul.”

 

The scowl Deryn wore was entirely for Alek’s benefit. Seeing it he brightened and wander to her.

 

“Though I see no issue with giving you a tour, seeing as I _do_ own the place.”

 

At this Deryn snorted, rolling her eyes when he offered his arm. Still, she took the bait and latched onto it, awkwardly still an inch or so taller then he was. Together they left the chamber and Alek lead her down hallways so fine and fancy they made Deryn’s skin crawl.

 

When they came to a hall filled with armor and swords Deryn had to resist not laughing outright. It was something right out of a moving picture, a villainous castle damsels were so often rescued from. From there Alek showed her a shooting gallery, saloon, and attempted to get her out in the gardens but was sorely rejected. He even made a point of showing off the elevator, apparently it had been a new invention Klopp had installed when Alek was a lad. Deryn was baffled by this, the apartments in Glasgow all had elevators without any kind of fuss. It was somewhat humorous that for all its elegance, most fine estates were damn inconvenient.

 

Just as Deryn was beginning to wonder when Alek might prefer to be alone with her they came across a sitting room with a collection of paintings hung about the walls. Deryn wanted to be done with the stuffy room, reminded of tea parties Dr. Barlow made her sit through as an apprentice, but found Alek stiff when she tried to pull him away.

 

Following his gaze, Deryn’s eyes rested upon a large portrait that hung above the fireplace depicting a man and woman posing elegantly together. Between Alek’s solemn gaze and the ornate frame Deryn could put two and two together. She squinted up at Alek’s parents, noticing they looked older then the teenagers in Alek’s locket watch. It must have been easier to look at those smaller pictures, so young they didn’t feel like his parents at all, but the man and woman staring down at them probably were as Alek had seen them last. Something in Deryn tried to find their son in each of their faces, more difficult on his father’s side due to the mustache.

 

It was awkward, all of a sudden. Awkward to think that these people had once really existed in this fancy place, that she was now in their home latched to their son’s arm. Despite her humiliation, Deryn found herself wondering what they’d think of her. Not very highly, she’d reckon. If anyone understood how a prince could fall for a commoner it was Alek’s parents, but that didn’t change the fact Deryn was far from what they likely imagined for him. Even if they forgave the trousers, the belching, swearing, and spitting might be a bit much. Stubbornly she told herself that _of course_ she’d act respectfully to them if they were alive, but then remembered that if they were alive she and Alek would have never met. Furthermore, Alek would probably be an archduke by now, readying himself to be emperor. That was something to ponder.

 

“I…don’t think I can give this place up, Deryn.” Alek said, shaking her from her thoughts.

 

Deryn turned her head, eyes wide and mouth hung open ready to protest, but was interrupted before she could.

 

“I don’t intend to keep it to myself, but I cant just let this place disappear. Its too… _influential.”_

That was true enough. Hundreds of years from now people would read about the Great War and ponder about the family tragedy that started it all. Just like Fountain’s Abbey, Deryn could imagine a future historian willing to kill to stand here now.

 

“Well, maybe that’s the answer then,” Deryn said absently.

 

“What do you mean?” Alek asked, turning to face her.

 

“I’m just thinking,” Deryn went on, “Why not donate to some historical society that’d preserve it? If this is really the metaphorical birthplace of the war, then perhaps is should be preserved by people who’ll see the value in remembering what exactly it stood for.”

 

For long minutes Alek’s expression was unreadable, Deryn thought about taking the comment back, but then he slowly nodded.

 

“Yes…that…that’s exactly what I want.” He said, “I think that’s what Father would have wanted as well. Let this place be a reminder to everyone, what lengths some people will go to for violence and greed, and why we should continue to advocate for peace.”

 

And for a moment Deryn felt herself transported back to the first months of knowing this boy. Seeing the sadness in his eyes shift to determination, Deryn thought for once that maybe this aspect of his ‘destiny’ was more suited to him. Even still, Deryn didn’t want him to go back to thinking he had to somehow apologize for the war, his own existence being what supposedly started it.

 

“Should we go tell that Müller bumrag to get stuffed then?” Deryn asked, hoping to brighten his mood.

 

It worked, a smile spread across his lips in moments.

 

“Yes, but perhaps tomorrow. Its been a long time since I’ve been here…” Something dawned on him, and he brought a quizzical finger to his chin, “I wonder if I can find my toy soldier collection…”

 

Deryn hung back, watching him as he marched determinately away utterly dumbfounded.

 

“Your _what_?”


End file.
